


Basestar Rave

by icedteainthebag



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-02
Updated: 2009-07-02
Packaged: 2017-10-21 18:59:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icedteainthebag/pseuds/icedteainthebag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally written for the <a href="http://bsg-pornbattle.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://bsg-pornbattle.livejournal.com/"><b>bsg_pornbattle</b></a>. Prompt: Bill/Laura, "let's have some fun/this beat is sick/I wanna take a ride/on your disco stick." This was written per <a href="http://coffeesuperhero.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://coffeesuperhero.livejournal.com/"><b>coffeesuperhero</b></a>'s request. I want to thank <a href="http://tlynnfic.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://tlynnfic.livejournal.com/"><b>tlynnfic</b></a> for first brainstorming this idea with me via txt, and also, <a href="http://snoopy0917.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://snoopy0917.livejournal.com/"><b>snoopy0917</b></a>, <a href="http://somadanne.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://somadanne.livejournal.com/"><b>somadanne</b></a>, and everyone else who pimped the hell out of Bill to me tonight and made me realize that the man can get his groove on, baby.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Basestar Rave

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the [](http://bsg-pornbattle.livejournal.com/profile)[**bsg_pornbattle**](http://bsg-pornbattle.livejournal.com/). Prompt: Bill/Laura, "let's have some fun/this beat is sick/I wanna take a ride/on your disco stick." This was written per [](http://coffeesuperhero.livejournal.com/profile)[**coffeesuperhero**](http://coffeesuperhero.livejournal.com/)'s request. I want to thank [](http://tlynnfic.livejournal.com/profile)[**tlynnfic**](http://tlynnfic.livejournal.com/) for first brainstorming this idea with me via txt, and also, [](http://snoopy0917.livejournal.com/profile)[**snoopy0917**](http://snoopy0917.livejournal.com/), [](http://somadanne.livejournal.com/profile)[**somadanne**](http://somadanne.livejournal.com/), and everyone else who pimped the hell out of Bill to me tonight and made me realize that the man can get his groove on, baby.

_**[bsg_pornbattle] Basestar Rave**_  
 **Title:** Basestar Rave  
 **Author:** [](http://icedteainthebag.livejournal.com/profile)[**icedteainthebag**](http://icedteainthebag.livejournal.com/)  
 **Pairing:** Laura/Bill  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word count:** 4,396  
 **Spoilers:** through S4  
 **Author's Notes:** Originally written for the [](http://bsg-pornbattle.livejournal.com/profile)[**bsg_pornbattle**](http://bsg-pornbattle.livejournal.com/). Prompt: Bill/Laura, "let's have some fun/this beat is sick/I wanna take a ride/on your disco stick." This was written per [](http://coffeesuperhero.livejournal.com/profile)[**coffeesuperhero**](http://coffeesuperhero.livejournal.com/) 's request. I want to thank [](http://tlynnfic.livejournal.com/profile)[**tlynnfic**](http://tlynnfic.livejournal.com/) for first brainstorming this idea with me via txt, and also, [](http://snoopy0917.livejournal.com/profile)[**snoopy0917**](http://snoopy0917.livejournal.com/) , [](http://somadanne.livejournal.com/profile)[**somadanne**](http://somadanne.livejournal.com/) , and everyone else who pimped the hell out of Bill to me tonight and made me realize that the man can get his groove on, baby.  
Now back to my regularly scheduled Adama!sneer.

Oh, and if you'd like your own personal soundtrack to this fic, here's Lovegame by Lady GaGa.  
<http://www.sendspace.com/file/kbnvsy>

x x x x

  
The Cylons were created by man.

They evolved.

They rebelled.

They look and feel human.

Some are programmed to think they are human.

There are many copies.

And they're having a rave.

x x x x

Laura Roslin walks into Bill Adama's quarters with no fanfare or salutation. He's sitting at his desk, absorbed in a book, until she places a plain piece of paper on his desk and stands up straight, her hand on her hip.

"I'm not going to the Black Market ship for your groceries again," Bill says, his eyes on the text. "Too busy."

"Apparently," she says. "It's not a list, Bill. It came to me via Colonial Courier."

Bill looks up and bookmarks his page. His eyes wander to the paper she just set down.

"What is this?" Bill asks as he pulls it closer, his eyes skimming over the finely-printed script.

THE 2's, 6's AND 8's  
HAVE FORMALLY REQUESTED  
THE HONOR OF YOUR PRESENCE  
AT THE WEEKLY BASESTAR RAVE  
THIS SATURDAY  
234.695.2390.322

REBEL BASESTAR  
GRAND BALLROOM

R.S.V.P. TO LEOBEN CONOY  
CLUB ATTIRE REQUIRED  
NO NUKES PLEASE

"It's an invitation," Laura says. "Apparently, in the spirit of newfound diplomacy between the Cylons and our fleet, the 2's, 6's and 8's have decided to invite the Galactica crew to one of their Saturday night Basestar...raves."

"A 'rave?'" Bill asks.

"It's a dance party," Laura says, slightly irritated.

"How do you know?" Bill asks.

Laura folds her arms across her chest. "I've...heard about them. Down on Caprica." She pauses. "A long time ago."

"Huh." Bill tosses the paper back onto the tabletop. "Do you think it's a trap?"

"Bill," Laura says, "If the rebel Cylons wanted to kill us, they most certainly would have done so by now, without inviting us to their Basestar party."

"But getting us all over there on their Basestar, unarmed, under the guise of this event would certainly make it easy for them to take us all out at once." Bill taps his finger against the invitation.

Laura huffs and rolls her eyes. "Please? Could you stop being so gods damn paranoid all the time?"

"Paranoid," Bill muses. "One of these Cylon models shot me point-blank in the chest. Another tried to take me out and I had to beat the shit out of him with a flashlight."

"But there's going to be _dancing_ ," Laura says, her voice slightly desperate.

"Dancing, and maybe certain death," Bill says solemnly.

Laura leans over. "Bill," she says softly as she runs her fingers through the back of his hair. "I think it's time you let down your guard for the first time in, oh, let's say a decade or so, and get out there and have a good time. Like the nuggets say, 'Get your groove on, baby.'" She kisses his cheek.

"How do you know what the nuggets say?" Bill asks.

Laura stares at him and then casts her eyes to the side. "I've... heard about it."

Bill sighs with a shake of his head and looks back down at the invitation. "'Club attire required.' All I've got are fleet tanks and uniforms, Laura. And all you have is three suits."

"Two," Laura sighs. "I airlocked the one. You know, the one."

"The ruffles."

She shudders. "Don't mention it."

"So which of your two suits are you going to wear?" Bill sits back in his chair and studies her as a small smile emerges.

"I'm borrowing a dress from Caprica," she says with an arch of her eyebrow.

Bill's eyes widen and he clears his throat. "Well, uh... do you have a date?"

Laura's grin widens and she laughs softly. "Are you asking me out, Bill Adama?"

"Frak yes," he growls as he grabs her hand and pulls her closer. She lands in his lap and puts her arms around his neck. "Sometimes you gotta roll a hard six."

Bill starts kissing her neck and she giggles. "Hey, so, can you call Leoben over the wireless and RSVP for this thing?" she says breathlessly.

"Mmmmm, why can't you do it?" he murmurs against her skin.

"I find it... mmmm... a little uncomfortable asking the Cylon I airlocked... Oh, Bill, yeah.... if I can go to his party," Laura manages. Bill nibbles on her ear as his hands roam over her back.

"One word," Bill says. "Flashlight."

"Frak," she breathes. "Fine, fine, I'll do it."

"I'll thank you," Bill growls, his fingers playing with her bra strap. "And I’ll thank you hard, Madam President."

Laura giggles and kisses him firmly on the lips.

x x x x

 _  
Let's have some fun  
this beat is sick  
I wanna take a ride  
on your disco stick_

  
On the rebel Basestar, Laura steps off the Raptor from Colonial One after earlier arranging to meet Bill "wherever the drinks are."

The loud throb of the music is nearly ribcage-rattling before she even finds the grand ballroom, which takes her quite a long while due to the long, dimly lit, identical hallways.

Finally, she sees a sign that says, “Cylon Rave” with a big, black arrow pointing down one of the long, dimly lit, identical hallways, and follows it.

Laura enters the rebel Basestar's grand ballroom tentatively and sees a throng of people—lots of Cylons, lots of humans, all dancing in a frenzied mess. The room is trademark Cylon décor, the funky red, white and blue lighting and the long, dangly fiberoptic lights all over the place. They've added a strobe light to the mix, which makes it all the more ethereal.

She stares for a minute, her head cocked, and then shakes her head once.

Laura smoothes her hands over the dress that’s tightly hugging her curves. It’s a black halter-top dress that barely skims the middle of her thighs. It’s the most conservative dress Caprica had, and it fits her snugly. Very snugly. That, paired with three-inch black heels, and Laura doesn't even notice that several Viper pilots have dropped their drinks on the floor.

"Gods, I love Lady GaGa," she breathes as the beat resounds in her chest.

Laura scans the room but doesn’t see Bill, not even at the makeshift bar manned by a Leoben dressed in horribly tacky clothes. She spots Saul and Ellen Tigh as they grind up on each other shamelessly. She walks up to them and puts her arm around Ellen's shoulders.

"Hey," Laura hollers over the music.

"Hey yourself," Saul hollers back. His eyes travel southward. "Holy Fraknuts, Madam President!"

Ellen kisses Laura on the cheek. "He means that in the most respectful kinda way," she slurs loudly.

“No, I don’t!” Saul slurs gruffly.

Laura looks at him for longer than necessary, then turns her face to Ellen.

"Where's Bill?" Laura asks, enunciating to be heard over the blaring dance music.

"Should be here any time," Saul bellows. Laura flinches. "Frakkin' old man, always a day late and a cubit short. Wanna dance with Ellen?"

Laura laughs and she and Ellen share a smirk. "In your dreams, Colonel."

"Damn straight," Saul growls as he pulls Ellen closer. Ellen giggles as she winds her arms around Saul's neck tightly. “Wanna dance with both of us?”

“Um… no,” Laura replies. She scans the room again and suddenly something catches her eye.

“Oh, my Gods,” she breathes, her eyes widening. “Bill.”

x x x x

 _  
Bill Adama is in his head furiously brushing his teeth. He spits into the sink and smoothes his hair back. He checks out his profile in the mirror, then lets his eyes wander down to his dress shirt. He runs his fingers over the silky sides of it and sighs deeply._

 _“How’s it going in there?” he hears from outside the door._

 _“All good,” Bill answers. He turns and pushes the head door open and walks out._

 _“Let me see you… Oh, look. At. That,” Leoben says. He stands up from the Admiral’s couch and walks slowly up to Bill. Leoben looks him up and down and walks a circle around him. Bill shifts uncomfortably. “You’re hot, Admiral Adama. I’m so glad you called me in to help get you ready for the party tonight.”_

 _“I’ve got an embarrassing lack of civvie clothes in my wardrobe,” Bill admits. “And no club attire to speak of.”_

 _“I like how you left the dress shirt open,” Leoben muses. “That tank top hangs on those hard, toned muscles of your chest just right.”_

 _Bill looks sharply at Leoben, then takes a deep breath. “Yeah, the dress shirt wouldn’t button,” he answers._

 _“I’m a skinny frakker,” Leoben says._

 _“You think these pants are too tight?” Bill asks, looking down, then back up into Leoben’s eyes._

 _“Pants are never too tight,” Leoben chuckles. Bill watches Leoben’s gaze wander down to the front of his pants. “The ladies _love_ tight pants. Especially when you’ve got something to show off.”_

“All right,” Bill says, rather gruffly. Leoben clears his throat and straightens up. “Thanks for your help. I suppose I’ll head over to the… rave.”

“Have a great time with the President,” Leoben says. “I like her style.”  


x x x x

Laura’s frozen for a moment as she takes in the entirety of Bill’s attire. A green and tan Hawaiian print shirt, open to a white tank, with tight, maroon pants on bottom. With what she can only distinguish as black boots to complete the look.

“Leoben Conoy,” she growls angrily under her breath. “Motherfrakker.”

She watches Bill scan the room until he spots her. He smiles sheepishly and she smiles and beelines it toward him.

Bill’s eyes travel downward over her dress as soon as she’s within a good distance. His mouth opens slightly, then shuts quickly again. Laura puts her hands on his cheeks and kisses him firmly on the mouth.

“Mmmm,” he murmurs against her lips. She pulls away and smiles. “Good evening to you, too, Madam President.”

“You’re going to have to speak up,” Laura says apologetically with a grin. “It’s frakkin’ raging in here.”

“Good evening to you too, Madam President,” Bill practically bellows over the music.

Laura cringes, then smiles again.

“Good evening, Admiral,” she answers, albeit loudly.

“Nice dress,” he says, and sounds a bit strangled doing so.

“You like it?” she asks. She turns her back to him and hears him take a deep breath. The back is revealing and dips to her waist to show off her shoulder blades.

“Caprica has a fantastic wardrobe,” Bill says. “You’re beautiful, Laura.”

Laura faces him again and kisses his cheek. “Thank you. And you…”

She falters, then laughs softly and throws her arms around him in a long hug. Bill’s arms wrap around her waist and pull her snugly against him.

“Did Leoben help you out?” she asks, her lips on his ear.

“Yeah,” Bill answers, his voice cautious. “He’s the only Cylon who doesn’t want me dead. I didn’t have a lot of options. And I didn’t want to show up in fleet tanks and trousers.” Bill hugs her more tightly. “Not when I knew you’d be looking like this.”

Laura looks into his eyes. “Thank you for being my date,” she says. Her thumbs brush the back of his neck.

“Always,” he answers. He kisses her softly.

“Now,” she says as she pulls away. “I need a frakkin’ drink. Or two, or six.”

x x x x

The music is unrelenting, the beat deafening, and at the Cylon bar, the drinks flow like water in a Caprican mountainside stream.

“These Cylons sure know how to party,” Bill says loudly as he downs his shot of a delicious, yet indistinguishable clear liquid.

“Gods yes,” Laura answers, her face twisted in reaction to her third shot.

Bill taps his glass against the bar and Leoben immediately fills their glasses again. Laura and Bill both pick up their drinks, lift them up ceremoniously, and toss them back in unison.

“Who’s manning Galactica?” Laura says as she slams her empty shot glass down on the bar. “Unghhh. Damn, that’s some strong stuff.”

“Gaeta and Hoshi,” Bill answers.

“I’m glad you left our fate in responsible hands,” Laura says.

x x x x

“Oh, frak _me_ ,” Hoshi groans as he leans back against the CIC table.

“I most certainly will,” Gaeta growls with a smirk as he drops to his knees.

x x x x

“To Lieutenant Gaeta and his selfless manning of Galactica,” Laura announces as she picks up her shot glass.

“So Say We All,” Bill says as their glasses clink.

They suck down the alcohol and wait for the next round.

“I’m going to get soooo wasted,” Laura declares as Leoben pours her another shot.

“I don’t take advantage of drunk women,” Bill says before he sucks down his next drink.

Laura leans in. “You obviously haven’t been around the right women.”

Bill chuckles and she looks into his eyes and smirks with a lift of her eyebrows, then bursts into giggles.

“Maybe if you dance with me, I’ll let you take advantage of me,” Laura says. She trails her fingers down his side and to his hip, where she presses her palm against the front of his pants.

“Dance to _this_?” Bill asks. He glances down at her hand, which is inching toward the middle of his pants. She pulls her hand away with a gleam in her eye.

“I bet you can,” Laura says. She moves her body closer and their chests brush. She tilts her head and smiles up at him. “Something tells me you’re _hot_ when you dance, Bill.”

“I can try,” he replies with a chuckle.

“I can help.” Laura runs her fingers over Bill’s bottom lip and grabs her last shot to down it quickly. She grunts and shakes her head. “Okay. Let’s go, Admiral Hotpants.”

Bill watches her walk toward the dance floor, where his crew is currently getting funky with Cylons and other humans alike. “Admiral Hotpants,” he repeats as he follows her. “That’s a new one.”

Laura turns around and waits for Bill to catch up with her on the dance floor. The lights and music thumping in his ribcage are slightly overwhelming and he tries to focus on Laura’s breasts instead, nearly spilling out of the top of her dress.

It works.

Laura slides her arms around Bill’s neck and starts to sway her hips to the driving beat of the music. “Are you feeling it?” she says over the music. Bill’s hands gravitate toward her ass and he presses his palms against it, her muscles firm.

“Oh, I’m feelin’ it,” he answers. She grins and presses closer to him. Her hips brush against the front of his pants and he shivers. She does it again.

“I’m feeling it too,” she says. “Right…” She presses her hips into him harder. “…there.”

“That’d be it,” he answers. He runs his hands up her dress, the smooth fabric that ends at her waist and the bare skin of her back that’s above it.

Laura smirks, then turns around and leans her body into his chest. She grinds her ass against Bill’s hips, then lifts her arms in the air and looks over her shoulder at him as she slowly moves her body to the beat.

“Frak,” Bill says as Laura slides down his body slowly, then back up. Her hand slides around the back of his neck and pulls his head down. Her other hand grabs his and sets it firmly on her hip.

“Like this,” she says loudly, and she looks into his eyes.

Bill starts moving his hips in a slow, nearly hypnotic rhythm with Laura’s as she snuggles her ass against his groin. She tilts her head back and pulls his head closer so she can look him in the eyes.

“Get your groove on, baby,” she says, her lips inches from his. “Feel it. Come on.”

She puts her hand over his on her hip and slowly rolls her hips against him and he follows her movements. He feels her laugh and she bites her lower lip raises her eyebrows at him.

“What did those nuggets teach you, anyway?” he responds with a chuckle. He slides his free hand over her other hip and pulls her body tightly against him. She bites her lip.

“Nothing I didn’t already know,” she says and her voice strains slightly to be heard over the music.

Bill’s fingers fan out over her hips as he holds her close and begins to move a little more with the music, and soon their hips are working together to the beat. She responds by letting go of his head to slide her hands down his sides and thighs, then back up slowly, teasing him.

Laura wiggles her hips out of his grip and turns around, her arms twining around his neck again. She presses her lips against the tender spot of his neck under his ear.

“Touch me like we’re frakking,” she says, her breath hot on his skin. “With our clothes on.”

He chuckles and pulls her sharply against him, his arms around her waist. “I think I get it now,” he growls.

Laura rubs her leg against the outside of his thigh. She works herself over his leg to straddle it, then snags his earlobe between her teeth and sinks onto his thigh. He feels her heat as it presses through his pant leg and he grits his teeth and pulls her closer, his palms on the small of her back.

“Nice,” he breathes.

“Mmmmm,” she hums against his ear with a giggle. “You like that?”

Her hips rub against him, slowly, methodically, and it’s taking all of the willpower he has to not slide his hands up the back of her dress.

 _  
Let's have some fun  
this beat is sick  
I wanna take a ride  
on your disco stick  
_

“They just played this song,” he says as he lets his fingers slide over the skin of her back again. Laura lets out a small moan as he traces her shoulder blades.

“They keep playing it over and over,” she murmurs. She grinds herself against his thigh a little harder and he sucks a deep, sharp breath through his teeth at the sensation of wet heat. “Maybe they only have one song. Who the frak knows.”

“Yeah,” Bill manages. He moves his hands down to her ass and clutches it tightly. Laura growls in his ear.

“So naughty,” she purrs.

“This isn’t naughty,” Bill answers with a squeeze.

“Oh, _really_ ,” Laura says, her voice low. She slides her hips on his leg again and he lets out a small groan. “You wanna show me how naughty you really are, Admiral Adama?”

“Sweet Asses of Kobol,” Bill mutters as Laura bites his neck.

“Is that a yes?” she asks.

“They got a head in this joint?”

Laura pulls away from him and her expression is a curious mixture of excited and aroused. And drunk. She gestures toward the side of the room with her head, then grabs his hand and leads him toward the sign that says, “RESTROOM FOR FLEET MEMBERS, THIS WAY.”

“Why do fleet members have their own...restroom? What the frak's a restroom, anyway?” Bill asks as Laura leads him away from the dance floor. “Is this some sort of trap?”

“Shut it,” Laura says loudly.

Bill looks down and instead focuses on her ass, hugged tightly by Caprica’s little black dress.

“Frak it,” he says.

Bill and Laura wander down the long hallway leading to the Fleet Restroom. The music gets a little softer as they wander away.

“Gods, that music was _loud_ as _frak_ ,” Laura says, slowly, with a giggle. “I can barely hear myself think in there.”

“Can you usually hear yourself think?” Bill asks.

“Frak you,” Laura says as she jiggles the door handle. The door pops open and she squeaks with a grin. “It’s open!”

“You’re wasted,” Bill says as he pulls her into the head with him. He slams the door shut and flips the deadbolt lock, then wastes no time as he pushes Laura against the wall hard.

“Wasted,” Laura says breathlessly as Bill presses his body against her, “Is the best way to frak, sometimes, I think, Bill, don’t you think?”

His mouth is on her neck, her collarbone, her ear. Laura moans and clutches at his ass. He groans into her neck. “You talk too much for a drunk girl.”

“I can talk more,” Laura says, her voice barely audible over the muted beat of the dance music. “I can talk _dirty_ , Bill, so dirty, you wouldn’t believe the words that come out of my mouth, kind of dirty.”

Laura drags her leg up his thigh and hitches her leg on his hip. Bill chuckles against her neck and runs his tongue along her skin. This incites a whimper from the back of her throat.

“Do it,” he growls. He pushes his hand under her skirt and works it up her thighs to her waist. “Let me hear you, Laura.”

Laura hums and fumbles with Bill’s button and zipper clumsily. “I want you inside me,” she breathes as she plucks the button out of the eyehole. “I want you to frak me so hard, Bill, right here on this frakkin’ Basestar.” Her fingers desperately seek his zipper and finding it, yank it down hard.

“Oh yeah?” he mutters. His thumbs hook into her panties and tug at them. Laura drops her leg so he can send her panties sliding down. “That’s not dirty, Laura. I thought you were going to talk dirty.”

“Frak you,” she growls as she grabs his cock and pulls it out of his boxers. “Frak, you’re so frakkin’ hard, Bill.”

“All for you,” he breathes as he shoves a hand between her legs. She groans and the back of her head hits the wall. “Gods, Laura, you’re so wet. You must really want this.”

“I want it,” she says, determination in her voice as she strokes his cock with a firm, tight grip. “I want your cock inside my pussy, Bill, and I want you… I want you so deep inside me, I want you to frak me so hard I’ll feel it for days.”

“That’s better.” Bill uses his body to nudge her thighs apart as he grabs her ass with both hands. He hefts her up and she pulls him closer with her arms.

Bill holds her thighs and Laura directs his cock. “Right here,” she breathes, “Right here, come on, Gods damn it all, right here.”

Bill groans and thrusts deeply inside of her. Laura cries out, her thighs pressed tightly against his hips. Bill presses his body against her and draws out of her, then back in, harder, eliciting another cry from her throat.

“Come on,” Laura urges through gritted teeth as she looks into his eyes. “Harder. Faster. Show me what you’re made of. Come on.”

Her legs lock around his waist for leverage as Bill grinds into her and they both groan in pleasure. He begins moving faster and they hear the sound of her slick wetness, the sound of her back and the fabric sliding against the tile wall, the sounds of his grunts and her panting.

“Yeah,” she breathes. “Yeah, more, mmmh, now, please…”

Bill thrusts as hard as he can, and every thrust is met with a loud cry from Laura as she slides up the wall with the impact of his hips. He presses his forehead against the wall and groans as his cock courses through her. Her fingernails dig deeply into his shoulders, her body wrapped tightly around him.

They’re beyond forming words and their sounds are primal—moans and pants interspersed with an occasional growl from Bill’s throat—and when Laura comes she cries out so loudly it echoes in the tiny Cylon bathroom, and she whimpers and writhes her hips against his as he pins her with all of his weight against the wall. The sound and sensation of Laura’s orgasm sends Bill over the edge and he cries out gruffly. His last thrust nearly knocks them off balance and Laura gasps and whimpers with a laugh.

“Oh _frak_ ,” Laura says breathlessly. “Don’t drop me, Bill. Please. Gods.”

“I won’t,” he mumbles with one more gentle thrust into her body.

“Mmmhhh.” She rests her head back against the tile wall. “Frakkin’ Saturday night rave, huh?”

“Alcohol,” Bill says. “Music. You looking so frakkin’ amazing in that dress.”

“And your maroon pants,” Laura says. She starts to giggle and he turns his head to look at her.

“What’s wrong with the maroon pants?” Bill asks as he nuzzles her neck.

“Oh, Bill.” Laura sighs and strokes the back of his hair. “Nothing’s wrong with your maroon pants.”

They’re still for moments, the restroom quiet except for the muted beat coming from the grand ballroom.

“You wanna go dance more?” he asks.

“I need my panties back on,” Laura says. “But sure, that’s why we’re here, right?”

“Yeah,” Bill says as he pulls away. Laura groans as she stands up and leans down to pull her panties back up her legs.

“I hope the Cylons don’t find out about this,” Laura says. “I’m not sure it’d do any good for diplomatic relations for them to find out that the President and the Admiral just frakked in their guest head.”

“Like they don’t frak everywhere all the time,” Bill scoffs as he zips up his pants and buttons them. He grabs Laura around the waist and she laughs and melts against him. They kiss slowly, their tongues lazily playing with each other.

“All right, Admiral,” Laura says. “To the dance floor with you.”

“I’m ready to get my groove on,” Bill growls as he slaps her ass.

“All right, my handsome little nugget,” Laura says.

She slaps his ass as she follows him out.

x x x x

Caprica and Leoben watch the restroom door slam on the closed circuit television. They turn to each other.

"I can't believe this," Leoben says. "We invite them over to our rave and what do we get in return? The President and the Admiral frakkin' in our restroom, Caprica. In our special guest restroom specifically reserved for them."

"They're probably high on chamalla," Caprica says. "Or drunk. Or both."

"This doesn't please me," Leoben answers. "Or God."

"Oh shut the frak up," Caprica snaps. "You wanna go out the airlock again?"

Leoben looks at her, crestfallen.

"That's what I thought," Caprica mutters. "Self-righteous motherfrakker. Now go clean that restroom up."

"Frak you," Leoben sneers as he walks away.

  



End file.
